


Under Warranty

by RanchDeChloe



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Repairs, but only android body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 12:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15073568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RanchDeChloe/pseuds/RanchDeChloe
Summary: Connor gets injured in the line of duty and Hank watches over the repairs.





	Under Warranty

**Author's Note:**

> Has a fair amount of gross robot business but nothing resembling traditional human injury.

Hank and Connor sit in the makeshift waiting room in a reclaimed cyberlife flagship store. 

Hank tilts Connor’s chin up, “Maybe it will help with the bleeding?” he offers nervously. His hand comes back a slick and shiny blue.

“It’s not a nose bleed, Lieutenant” Connor sighs, his voice sounding tinny and distant.

Hank still can’t believe Connor got between him and the perp, taking a screw driver to the face in the process. The handle is broken off and now just the jagged exposed base of it is visible just under his eye. The wound is so small that when Connor had first received it Hank thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but that wasn’t the case as thirium started to drip from his nose, a pale blue cast entering his left eye. 

Now as they sit and wait the thirium has soaked the front of Connor’s dress shirt, leaking from his mouth and nose, forming blue tears. Something in Connor is making a high pitched whine and Hank wants to scream at the top of his lungs for someone to help him but Connor’s pretty accident prone and Hanks’s getting used to this new clinic. 

The room is near silent except for the steps of the occasional RT600 who comes to collect the patients. All information is shared by thought and Connor has already assured him that they know he has time before thirium loss is critical. Hank can’t imagine having a ticking clock in your head telling you when you’ll kick the bucket, let allows sit calmly and wait to be saved. Well, mostly calmly. Connor sits stiffly, face calm, but his LED is a stressed bright red. Hank reaches up and gives the back of his neck a squeeze before rubbing his shoulder. The LED flickers yellow for a moment before it settles back to red.

“Relax, Lieutenant, I told you at this rate, I have at least another hour and fifteen minutes before thirium loss would cause a total system shutdown. I’m fine, we have time, I’m fine, I am fine, I’m good, I’m fine,Ça va bien, relax Hank, ich bin großartig-“ His voice sounds more and more metallic. He reaches over and squeezes Hank’s hand. 

 

Someone helps carry an unresponsive android to the back rooms of the clinic.

Hank plays nervously with Connor’s blue stained fingers and Connor can’t help but try to comfort, “I promise, it doesn’t hurt”. 

Connor’s LED holds yellow for a moment, Connor winces, “It’s our turn”.

—

A team of five RT600s lead the way to a back room that is a strange mix of weld shop and doctor’s office. This model always kinda gave Hank the heebie jeebies since meeting that Kamski guy but Connor seems fond enough of their Nurse Joy shtick. Everything here stinks of cyberlife and who knows, maybe the kid found it kind of homey. It also creeped Hank out that the staff here had fallen back into one identity, linked up mentally and working as one. Connor has assured him it was efficient for their work and might feel nice and familial it still seems a little cold. 

 

Connor is sat in a dentists chair and one of the androids lets the synthetic skin of her arm pull away before gently taking connor by the wrist as she sits on a stool beside him. The woman’s face is calm but connor’s eyes flutter, sharing more information. 

Connor’s eyes go wide, nearly gasping and trying to tug his hand back, “no, I want to be awake”. 

Hank steps up on Connor’s other side, ready to get involved. This place has been nice over the times they visited but these clinics for androids are still unregulated, and its not beyond the realm of possibility that things went shady. 

The RT600 holds tight but tries to soothe, “its only standby mode, we highly recommend for your own well-being that you enter standby, being fully conscious during repairs to your face can traumatize the psyche”. Her tone was calm and firm but it made every muscle in Hanks body tense in sympathy. She looks up at Hank and he realizes it was said out loud for his sake, she’s looking for back up. 

“Its alright kid, I'm right here, you’ll be ok” Hank offers, trying to sound confident, reaching over to squeeze Connor’s hand. Connor gives him a quick look, pitiful in his injured state before nodding, closing his eyes and obviously willing himself to relax “Okay… Just a moment”. 

Connor lets himself slip away, the red LED going dark. His whole body slacks, the hand Hank holds suddenly feels unusually phony and plastic. It doesn’t stop him from rubbing small worried circles into the synthetic skin with his thumb. 

Every other android in the room starts to move except the one latched to Connor’s arm, she just shuts her eyes and the section of injured skin on Connor’s face melts back, revealing more damage. Working in tandem the women hurry about, one leaning over and popping off the now cracked ocular plate, revealing more of the offending broken screw driver which is quickly removed. The plate is passed to a woman who passes it over to be repaired while another readies a thirium transfer. All LEDs pulse exactly the same, many minds solving one problem. 

The exposed hole they remove broken bits from is no bigger than a few inches and it reveals one warm brown eye stained splotchy blue in a nest of wire and tubing.

When cole was born they offered to let Hank watch the c-section up close and personal, but he was advised against it. The doctor explained that she couldn’t preform her wife’s c-section. People just aren’t meant to see that kind of thing. Hank was quick to turn down the offer. It was simple, no one should see the inner workings of those they loved. Exposed organs and warm fuzzy feelings simply didn’t go together. This feels just as taboo. His own eyes sting with tears as the soft membrane of his eye is peeled away, exposing a black camera lens. A RT600 rinses the blue away with what looks like contact solution.

The one connected with Connor scrunches her nose before the whole room in unison lets out a soft breathy little “…oh!”

…Like the whole room had been spectrally goosed. 

 

Hank straightens up, blinking away his misty eyes, “what is it, is everything ok?”

“All is well, Lieutenant Anderson, just replaying the memory of the incident, to make sure we evaluate and treat each injury to the best of our abilities” she offers without opening her eyes, her voice is calm and cool, must have got his name from Connor’s head.

“Its really very sweet” murmured the android checking to make sure the new ocular plate would be an exact match. 

One of the androids works on washing away access spilled thirium in Connor’s skull as they replace a thin bit of hose in his head. 

The connected one smiles to herself “so often we only see great trauma and fear, or thoughtless accidents, but Connor was protecting you”.

“Yeah, idiot kid decided it would be a great idea to jump in front of a nervous junkie for me, he’s gonna get himself killed one day”. He looks down at the limp synthetic hand briefly, turning it over and running his thumb over his palm.

One in the back chimes in “He was happy to do it, you are unique to him, irreplaceable”. 

One of the women seems to be repairing a wire with what sure as hell looks to hank like plain old electrical tape. He shouldn't judge, some of Detroit’s finest doctors have had their way with him with a staple gun, medical professionals know what they are doing.

“He will also be pleased the injuries were minor, a torn vein, superficial cracks and wire stripping as well as unrecommended pressure against some of his finer sensors from the point of impact. Minor shorting. He will be pleased you will not have to worry about him”. 

A RT600 starts to reassemble his eye socket, reapplying the familiar iris first, while another tilts his chin up, a dime sized port opening itself up just at the base of his throat. a properly measured portion of thorium is reintroduced with a kind of IV. 

Hank shifts uneasy, “is he… can he hear us, is he telling you all this?”  
“Reviewing the memory of injury allows us to see the whole of the trauma, things the patient may have missed in the moment of stress. Watching and rewatching allows for a greater understanding but it gives us a clear picture of his state of mind, he was relieved when he was injured, you were safe, your orbital bone is not as easy to fix, Hank”.

Not only are they all talking to him but the silent doctors make jokes now too… Hank sighs, “but he’s okay right?”

As quickly as they began they finish up his eye and soon synthetic skin is crawling its way back over, like there wasn’t 4 inches of steel rudely shoved into it. They leave the IV but start the clean up process, washing his face and Hank would be hard pressed to guess there was anything ever wrong with him, assembly line new. 

The doctor at his arm opens her eyes at the same time Connor does, his LED making slow yellow circles, his fingers tensing up around Hank’s. The pupils of his eyes don’t quite line up, the eyelids are uneven as they blink. The one at his side breaks their connection before gently covering his eyes with her hand. The room is all silent communication again, Hank’s out of the loop. She pulls her hand away and now he keeps his eyes shut.

“Do I look okay, Lieutenant?” his voice is soft but sounds back to normal.

“You plastic dipshit, you scared me to death with this shit and then you ask me to stroke your vanity?” he shakes his head fondly “… you look great, good as new, kid”. 

One of the RT600 leans in to whisper to hank and it spooks him, he barely noticed her getting so close,“we’ll leave you both so he can rest, give him time to fully metabolize the thirium 310. He’ll need time recover and re-calibrate his optical unit and a few of his internal sensors. He’s welcome to stay here through that process but he requested to return home”.

She straightens up and just like that the quiet line of blondes file out the door. Hank shakes his head, its been a weird day. 

“Your heart rate is elevated” Connor points out, peaking his untouched eye open.

“I just saw your head get taken apart, give me a break, you bastard”.

Hank doesn’t let go of his hand.

—-

Getting Connor home is a chore. He staggers and clings to Hank’s arm, his sense of balance is shot and his eyes are feeding him uneven information without being calibrated. 

“If this is what it feels like to be drunk I have no idea why you ever indulge” Connor grouses.

“I think you have more of an android concussion over being drunk, if you were drunk you would have flirted with one of the doctors and threw up in my car”. 

Hank guides him to the bedroom, avoiding the enthusiastic sniffing of Sumo and strips him out of his dirty clothes, helping him into fresh pajamas. There isn't a scratch on him anywhere to show the wear and tear of what happened. Connor, if he were human, would be lucky to be here. Hank imagines the scars that should be as he gets him dressed. Bullet wounds, road rash, surgery…. all of it would have left knots and bumps and streaks of color but instead he’s the same even pale, dotted with artfully placed freckles to mimic life.

“You look like you didn’t take a beating today, amazing” Hank admits, trying off the strings of his sleep pants.

“I didn’t take a beating, I was mildly stabbed and I’ve been fully and quickly repaired” 

“No one is ‘mildly stabbed’, its like saying ‘being just a little bit pregnant’ or ‘mostly dead’. ‘mildly stabbed’ is not a thing” He helps Connor into bed. He knows Connor doesn’t get cold but he tucks him in anyway, mostly to soothe himself. Connor looks up at him with nearly crossed eyes and Hank tries not to snort, “You should really fix the rest of this, huh?”

Connor’s LED briefly flicks from blue to yellow and back, “6 hours and 17 minutes in stasis for a full system re-calibration followed by physical testing. You’ll stay with me?”

Hank nods, already shucking his shirt and tossing it at the hamper, “just let me get these off”. He hopes the blue splotches in their laundry dry up before he has to wash them, they are hard to look at. He changes into pajamas himself and crawls into bed with him and Connor snuggles in tight, wedging himself up under hank’s arm, laying his head against Hank’s chest. Sumo hops into bed with them, making himself comfortable at their feet. Hank strokes Connor’s hair back and Connor makes a soft pleased noise. 

Hank tries to put in into words, “Thank….. for today….. for what you did”. 

Connor smiles softly, “my pleasure… I’m glad you are okay”.

Connor shuts his eyes and the light in his LED softens to a barely visible glow. Hank kisses the top of his head, accepting that everything is will be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> *blows a kiss to the stars* for the jerries.


End file.
